Sam Seaborn, International Man of Mystery
by Mistress Hershey
Summary: So what's our favourite former Deputy White House Communications Director been up to? So glad you asked.
1. Fear

**_Author's Note: _**If I keep this going, it'll probably end up AU later on. AU-ish. Maybe.

**_Disclaimer: _**It's all Joss Whedon's and Aaron Sorkin's. Don't sue. Please.

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_**Sam Seaborn, International Man of Mystery**_

**By Lizka**

**Chapter One: Fear**

Sam stared at himself in the hall mirror. It was a handily situated mirror, as all the mirrors were in the great manor house. He supposed that it came in handy what with the hundreds of teenage girls that lived here day to day – and what they did at night. Sam's hair was short and neat, his glasses were clean, and his tie was straight. He was wearing one of his more expensive suits, a leftover from his days of Gage Whitney. He looked every inch of his credentials. He was a brilliant lawyer, politicians, and had the references to match. Now if only he didn't feel like the people he would soon meet would be able to smell his fear, he would be all right.

_Chin up, Sam. They're probably more scared of you than you are of them. After all, you're a senior advisor to the President._

The momentary cheer Sam felt at this thought faded abruptly when he remembered that they had faced off against ancient hell-gods. In all probability, wouldn't be the least impressed with him - his boss, maybe, but not Sam.

Was it too late to make a break for it? If he started running now and drove off in his rental car, how long would it take until they found him again? They were much faster than he was, but if he could get a good head start …

"Mr. Seaborn? They're ready for you now." A pretty, athletic girl – no more than fifteen, tops – gestured for Sam to go through the doorway.

The panic that had been building up inside him only intensified as he followed the teenage girl down the hall, and was shown into a small study.

"Good evening, Dr. Giles, Ms. Summers, Ms. Rosenberg, Mr. Harris. It's an honour to meet you." Good thing his manners still worked.

Buffy Summers flashed the nervous man a brilliant smile and turned to her friends. "He's a polite one, isn't he?"

Alexander Harris grinned back, and it was amazing how a muscled, scarred, weather-beaten, one-eyed man could suddenly seem harmless. "Don't worry, Buff. We'll train it out of him."

And Sam felt better.


	2. Surprise

_So what's our favourite former Deputy White House Communications Director been up to? So glad you asked._

**_Disclaimer:_** Not. Mine.

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**Chapter Two:** Surprise 

Sam didn't belong here. He knew it, the group of people in front of him knew it, and what's more, they knew that he knew it. He stuck out in the stark military setting in his dark Armani suit. A bead of sweat was making its way down his back underneath his linen shirt. His dry cleaning bills were going to be outrageous.

What had he gotten himself into?

General Hammond and Major Davis were polite: they knew enough of politics to see why he was here. Dr. Jackson seemed eager to have another civilian on the base, while the alien - Teal'c, that was his name, Sam reminded himself - showed very little facial expression. Major Carter seemed nice enough, and smiled at him. Sam relaxed a bit, smiled back, and then turned to the final person at the table. Colonol Jack O'Neill glared at Sam in such a way that it reminded him very much of Josh when an aide became overly familiar with Josh's assistant.

Sam Seaborn decided that it wasn't a very good idea to smile too much at Sam Carter.

"So let me get this straight: you worked as a corporate lawyer; but you quit, you used to be a speechwriter; but now you're not, you ran for Congress; but you lost, and now the President has you flying all over the world as his own political liaison for, and I quote, 'the weird stuff.'" It was amazing how Colonel O'Neill made "lawyer" and "politician" sound like swear words.

"That about sums it up, yes."

"Huh. Okay. So what exactly will you do, Seaborn?"

Ah. A chance to show off his spokesman skills.

"Well, first of all, I would like to state that I have no intention of replacing Major Davis as your Pentagon Liaison. I'm sure you know that I have no previous military background, and am in no way qualified to do such a job. What I am qualified to do, however, is to provide the President with personal insight on the general mood and atmosphere of the SGC as well as give political and legal aid to yourselves when I can."

"Political and legal aid?" asked Dr. Jackson.

"Yes. I would help draft any binding agreements between the SGC and our alien allies, deal with personal legal matters, liaise between the SGC and certain other fringe organizations, as well as smoothing out any political ruffles with our government here."

He didn't miss how the looks the group exchanged at his statement. Colonel O'Neill took the lead. "Like, say, if we were having trouble with a Senator, you would help us out?"

"Yes."

"Cool."

"Wait a second," Major Carter said after the exchange. "You said 'other fringe organisations.' What other groups do you deal with?"

At the sudden reappearance of the Colonel's glare – Sam had been briefed about the group's dealing with the NID – Sam could feel the sweat start to drip down his costly shirt once again.

When all else fails, tell the truth. Especially if it's what they least expect.

"Well, there used to be this town called Sunnydale …"


End file.
